


Adrift

by Mythonik



Series: Amaryllis [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Supernatural Elements, Talon Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythonik/pseuds/Mythonik
Summary: Two of Talon's best and favored, side-by-side, overlooking the choppy waves of the crashing sea from behind reinforced glass. One with skin the color of the earth and the other the color of ashen snow. One with an ultimate vision for humanity, the other a catalyst to ensure its succession. One a being of flesh and blood and bone, the other a transmuted experiment of nanite and souls.





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short piece for an upcoming series to shake off the dust from Writer's Block, which means some things may be confusing. Also my first actual story for this fandom, so please excuse any present OOC behavior. In-part inspired by [Disteal's](http://disteal.tumblr.com/post/156534569360/some-revised-designs-from-this-sketch) art over in Tumblr, so make sure you head on over there to look at their art - you won't be disappointed!

Sometimes he wonders what they look like from an outside perspective. Talon's favored leaders, one tall and sporting a golden gauntlet half his size, the other shorter and significantly slimmer, clad in a sweeping white duster that fluttered despite no wind. Standing side-by-side like seasoned war soldiers (though he supposed that was what one of them was), overlooking the vast nothingness from behind floor to ceiling windows of the unmarked Talon base located at sea, the taller man turned his head fractionally to gaze down at his companion. If the stock still presence beside him felt the piercing stare, he made no move to acknowledge it.

Critical brown hues took in the great amount of stark white bandages wrapped around his fellow leader's head. The soft gauze left no sliver of pale skin uncovered, obscuring every trace of ashen flesh sans a nose, a pair of scared ears, and the faintest trace of his forehead that gave way to a snowy mess of hair atop his head. No eyes, no lips, no cheeks, only an eerily still countenance encased in feather-light tape.

Lesser agents would have found his appearance unnerving, and he would not be caught in a lie by saying that he himself thought the choice in style was not a peculiarity, but Doomfist had long since grown accustomed to addressing and being addressed by that same blank face.

The Successor did not flinch or startle when he felt invisible ribbons probing at his mind, seeking entrance by slithering over one another and gently pressing themselves against his conscience like a docile beast would to a cautious handler - entrance he generously granted. He failed to suppress the way his back muscles coiled and shivered when the silken strings wrapped in a mock parody of a lover around his mind's eye. Doomfist turned back to face forward at their mirrored reflections once again, standing guard like a pair of sentinels within the thick glass of the window as a warbled voice whispered to him.

_**[** Have Widowmaker and Sombra returned with the package? **]** _

Some may have found it disturbing that the only manner through which this physical - for the most part - phantom could speak through was by directly muttering into a host's mind, but Doomfist knew that it was only a matter of becoming used to it, as were the circumstances surrounding most issues concerning the spectral figure.

“Their last report reached our comms around 2300 hours,” he stated, seemingly unprompted to an outside eye rather than continuing a one-sided conversation, “We have yet to receive anything else.”

A distorted, two-toned hum made the Successor’s brow spasm instinctively, his body revolting against hearing the inhumane noise within himself. His companion continued on as if he had not laid witness upon the bodily rejection to his 'voice.’

_**[** A delay, then. Maybe we should have accompanied them. **]** _

Doomfist shook his head, slowly. The golden plates of the grand gauntlet rippled in place, binds disengaging and quietly shifting to keep them from slipping into stasis lock. The hissing of the pressurized air slipping from the hidden exhaust ports occupied the brief pause between them.

“I have utmost faith that they will succeed,” he finally said, voice and decision firm.

The smallest of nods came from his partner, the hood resting over his hair slipping back ever so slightly with the movement. Were it not for the twitch of a shrug rustling the fabric on his shoulders, Doomfist would have believed him to be in compliance with his opinion.

A flicker of what could be interpreted as amusement tugged at the corner of his lips into a ghost of minuscule smile. He still spoke in his usual commanding manner, but he knew that the other could easily detect the amused undertone, whether it be from his voice or from the connection the threads still had around his conscience.

“Do you doubt their capability of success, Catalyst?”

_**[** No. What I doubt is that they haven't been intercepted by Overwatch at this point. **]** _

“Let’s wait and expect them to return with the objective, in that case.”

Two of Talon's best and favored, side-by-side, overlooking the choppy waves of the crashing sea from behind reinforced glass. One with skin the color of the earth and the other the color of ashen snow. One with an ultimate vision for humanity, the other a catalyst to ensure its succession. One a being of flesh and blood and bone, the other a transmuted experiment of nanite and souls.

Doomfist still held his lingering doubts over the alleged success of _Program BELLADONNA_ , whether its test subject be standing ever-so-loyal at his flank or not, but he wisely withheld his peace on the matter of his companion's indoctrination to himself. Besides, as long as the Catalyst was his to command and use for the good of his mission, the Successor had no qualms concerning his continued existence.

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Any questions? Make sure to let me know! [@Mythonik](http://mythonik.tumblr.com)


End file.
